


What have you done?

by Anchanee



Category: The Hobbit (2012)
Genre: Angst, Cuddling, Devotion, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Insecurity, Light D/s, M/M, POV Bilbo, POV Thorin, Self Loathing, Sick Thorin, caretaker Bilbo, shag - Freeform, submissive Thorin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-13
Updated: 2013-01-19
Packaged: 2017-11-25 08:57:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/637221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anchanee/pseuds/Anchanee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How would you react if you finally realize that you got someone all wrong?<br/>Sometimes people, hobbits for example, are there to help just because they can, not because they expect anything in return. And sometimes the wisest choice is to simply accept that because you really need them.</p><p>No one can conquer a dragon all on his own, but sometimes it's not the dragon that's worse of all, but your own mind that threatens to destroy you. Then the small hand of a devoted hobbit is all you need to carry through the storm.</p><p> </p><p>After completing it, this story can be found on my tumblr-account. You are welcome to comment it there: http://anchanee.tumblr.com/</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. What have you done?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [littleblackdog](https://archiveofourown.org/users/littleblackdog/gifts).



> This is my first attempt on writing anything here. So please feel free to comment.
> 
> I was inspired by the work "Made and Remade the Necklace of Songs" by littleblackdog. It conjured a feeling I needed to voice or write down in that case. Altough our stories are based on a different setting, they still feel alike to me. 
> 
> [I'm german native. So please foregive misspellings and other errors.]

_“What have you done? You could have been killed!”_

What had he done? Bilbo didn’t remember exactly. He hadn’t had time to plan, or to decide, not even to think. Seeing Thorin lying there, on the stone, defeated and about to be slaughtered hadn’t left him time for anything, anything but to react. Maybe things would have been different if the hobbit would have allowed himself a moment of hesitation. But permitting the king to be slaughtered had simply not been an option.  
So he had grabbed his sword and thrown himself between the dwarf and his executioner. It has been sheer luck that he had killed the orc. He was a hobbit after all, no warrior. The foolishness of his actions had revealed themselves, when he had faced the other fighters, helplessly waving his sword between them and the wounded king. But than the other dwarves hat charged in and shortly after them the eagles.

Secured on the back of one of the giant birds, Bilbo hat not been able to tear his eyes away from the unconscious figure. He had felt like suffocating, had prayed to every god he could remember, for Thorin to be alive. When the dwarf hat finally risen on the hilltop he had been so grateful to hear his voice. A scowling and angry king was better than a dead one.

 _“I thought that you would be a burden!_  
      That you could not survive in the wild.  
      That you would never be one of us.”

Not even the accusations hat been able to hurt Bilbo as much as they had before. He had heard them far too often by now, and running from them had proven futile. He would stay with the company, for better or for worse. Because he had promised to do so. Because he wanted to help them.

_“I have never been more wrong, in my entire life!_

_Will you forgive my doubts?”_

When the king had apologised, thrown his arms around him, Bilbo had felt that he finally could breathe. Then he had returned the gesture and, after all this weeks, finally felt that he belonged.

 

* * *

 

_"It’s all right. I would have doubted myself.”_

The words of absolution seemed to be so easy for the Halfling. A shrug of the shoulders, a small comment and everything was forgotten. But how should Thorin be able to forgive himself? Now that his vision was no longer clouded by prejudice, he started to see the qualities of their little burglar. He was friendly and kind, good natured, helpful and loyal to a fault. Every minute the king spent studying the hobbit; really seeing him for the first time since the journey had begun; he felt his self-loathing increase. How could he have misjudged him so profoundly? And even more, how could the hobbit forgive so easily? Where he had distanced himself from the leader of the company because of his unwavering rejection, Bilbo now seemed to be constantly around him, supportive and silent. It was easy to see why his nephews liked the halfling so much. Despite what had happened, the little burglar seemed to be as cheerful as ever. The only exceptions were his worried glances when he looked at the injured king.

As soon as the company has descended from the peak, the dwarves had started to look for a place to rest. Many of them were injured and all of them were weary and tired. A small stream nearby provided water for the cleaning of their injuries, and some herbs gathered under the watchful eyes of Gandalf, were used to tend to the gravest wounds. Thorin was thankful beyond anything that they all had made it out of the cave and the orc attack alive. Seeing Erebor for the first time in so many years without a complete company, would have been unbearable. But all fourteen of them were there, so he could finally allow himself to rest on a small boulder against a tree close to the campfire.

 

* * *

 

Nearly all of them had washed and tended to their wounds, all but one. So after everyone was settled and the fire was cracking merrily, Bilbo gathered the last of the leaves and improvised bandages to approach the king. Thorin looked at him with an indescribable look in his eyes as Bilbo explained that he would tend to the wounds of the king now.

_“I am fine Master Baggins. I have survived worse.”_

_“You have been hit by a cleaver, bitten by a warg. I have seen it. So I will look at your wounds now. Gandalf said he has a friend nearby but we still have to make it through Mirkwood.”_

For a moment the dwarf just stared into the determined eyes of the hobbit. He has seen this determination before and for once he didn’t want to rebuff him. Would he have reacted different if Balin had come to him, or Fili? He had been sure to treat all of his companions alike, but with Bilbo it had been different, thus he didn’t know how to react any more. He wanted to make up for his mistrust and turning-away. So he just leaned against the tree and let the hobbit be. Small and skilled fingers opened his clothes with little support and only the sharp inhale from the Halfling made Thorin look down onto his own jest and stomach. He was of course covered in blood but although he felt the deep wounds below, he didn’t give an indication. A king needs to be strong.

Never the less after the first reluctant dabbing’s to clean away the blood, he was thankful for the small and cautious hands of their little burglar. Although he was gravely wounded the skilful fingers of Bilbo Baggins caused him very little pain. Unsure what to say Thorin just closed his eyes throughout the ordeal. Truth was, the hobbit seemed to be calmer when not under the watchful eyes of the king and who could hold that agains him after everything Thorin had said and done. So he only allowed himself to watch again when his blood-stained shirt was dragged down over the bandaged wounds. He searched his mind to say something, anything to show the hobbit how thankful he was for the treatment, for the support and the loyalty he had shown. But before he could come up with anything even remotely suitable, Bilbo hat already gathered the rest of the leaves and water and made his way back to the fire.

When the hobbit announced that he would now go down to the stream to wash, Fili and Kili warned him of the dangerous wolfs and the gigantic bears and the mean squirrels roaming these woods. Thorin was about to tell his nephews of when the hobbit just laughed and teased them that he would simply climb a tree again and wait for the mean squirrels to nest in their furs instead of his. The wary and tired company brought out laughing when the hobbit even picked up to nuts from the forest floor and throw them to the brothers so that “Their new friends would have something to eat.” before retreating to the water.  
It was only then when the dwarvenking noticed how dear his companions held the halfling. How could he not have seen this before? Bilbo has been so long a part of their company and only he has not noticed. Dwalin even changed his position slightly to keep an eye on the hobbit so no wildlife would endanger him. How could he have been so blind?

 

* * *

 

After everybody was cared for Bilbo allowed himself a few minutes of peace down by the river. It was such relieve to wash down all the grime and the gore and the blood, both from the cave and the orc attack. Although hobbits were good spirited by nature he couldn’t supress a shudder when he thought of the events that had unfolded. He had killed. First a warg and then an orc. He would do so again under the same circumstances. There was no doubt in his mind. But only now did he understand what Gandalf had said to him back home. When he would make this journey, he would never be the same again. Staying out all day and exploring the fields was nothing compared to what he had endured until now. He looked at his sword and wondered if he was really meant to wield a weapon. But on the other hand, he had taken the wizards advice; he had received with the sword; to heart.

_“Courage does not mean to take a life but to spare one!”_

Gollum would have reacted very different had their roles been reversed, that Bilbo was sure of. But still he had not been able to make himself take the life of that pitiful creature. Taking the life of the orc on the other hand had been no hardship for him. It had been the orc or the king and having the company lose their leader, having the dwarves loose there king had simply been unthinkable. So maybe he had made the right decisions after all.  
A stolen glance back to the campfire revealed a stoic Thorin, that hadn’t moved from his boulder. The watchful and cryptic eyes of the king seemed to be glued to him. For a brief moment Bilbo thought if he had offended him again with his insistence to tend to his wounds, or the jokes he had made with his nephews. But he couldn’t think of anything that had not happened countless times before with the others. The liked him and he had grown to like them. So he just washed in silence and then returned to the campsite.

Usually he slept close to the brothers, but now – in the middle of the forest, without blanks to keep them warm – all the dwarves had huddled together to preserve their warmth. So Bilbo had no choice to choose a resting place close to the tree where Thorin still sat. The dwarf had finally closed his eyes so he gathered his courage and laid down on the softest spot of forest floor he could find for himself. Every other position would have brought him even further away from the small, dying fire and he was cold already. Curled in onto himself he closed his eyes and tried to dispel the image of a bleeding and motionless Thorin in the middle of a ring of fire, about to be slaughtered by an orc. Shivering he shook his head again and again to get rid of this nightmare.

 

* * *

 

Only when the hobbit had hurled on the ground Thorin allowed himself to watch him again. His eyes made the little one uneasy and that was the last thing he wanted. He wanted to make amends. To make up for all the wrongs he had done their burglar. But he was to ashamed of himself, to be able to think of anything. Not that he would have anything to offer. They had escaped with nothing but their clothes on and the on-going journey would be even more difficult from now on.  
Bilbo’s shivering caught his attention and broke him out of his train of thoughts. The hobbit was not clad as the others. No fur lined coat to keep him warm. Dwalin has taken first watch and was looking the other way so Thorin slipped silently from his boulder to stretch out close to the hobbit. He felt the Halfling freeze in his motions but after a moment he crouched a tiny bit closer to the larger frame of the dwarf.

So Thorin had something to give after all. Even if it was just his body heat. Hesitating he waited for a few moments, before huddling closer to the hobbit. He wasn’t sure if he was wanted so close to the Halfling, or even allowed. But after a few minutes Bilbo seemed to be able to calm down and fall into an uneasy sleep.

Thorin didn’t dare to move, so that he would not disturb him. He searched for the stars through the trees but his mind wouldn’t give him any rest. All the incidents concerning their burglar fought their way back to his conscious mind and settled themselves square onto his chest like a heavy stone. All the sharp rebuffs he has given. All the doubts he has voiced, that had nearly driven him away. But Bilbo has taken them all and followed them out of his cosy home in the shire, out of Rivendell where he had looked at the elves with such admiration, out of the troll-caves right into the fire. And then he had even thrown himself between Thorin and his certain death. Such faithfulness humbled the king for he was not sure that he deserved it.  
All these thoughts felt heavier and heavier on his jest so that he struggled to breathe through them. What kind of king was he not seeing the devotion that was right in front of him, for his people, for their quest and last but not least for himself. The little hobbit has proven his worth again and again with nothing to gain but everything to lose.

The thought of their little companion being injured or worse wounded did not sit well with the king and he had to struggle to take his next breath through the heaviness that had settled upon him. His shivering movement must have awoken the hobbit because suddenly he turned and Thorin was completely stunned for a heartbeat, when a small hand settled right onto his chest.  
He didn’t know why, but the small and unwavering fingers calmed him somehow and for the first time since he had opened his eyes again, he was able to draw a deep and steady breath. When Bilbos fingers moved his first instinct was to cover them with his hand, to keep them right where they were. But he didn’t feel like he earned that. He hadn’t provided any comfort for their burglar at all, so why should he deserve any. Also he didn’t want to wake the hobbit in case the gesture has been purely instinctual.

In the end he settled with resting his own hand right below, not touching but close. He cautiously freed his own arm from under his hair, to stretch it right above the hobbits head. Slowly lowering it down, freezing every time the halfling drew a deep breath so that he would not wake him. When it came to rest behind Bilbo’s back Thorin finally relaxed and turned his head. The little one next to him seemed to be fast asleep, oblivious to his movements. When the dwarf calmed and relaxed the hobbit shifted once more to move his arm again. On instinct he lifted his hand to keep it on his chest just to realize that the wrist has wormed his way under his fingers. Cautiously he lowered his hand again and finally managed to relax enough to be able to drift off to sleep.

 

* * *

 

Only when he heard the deep and steady breathes of the king, Bilbo allowed himself to open his eyes again. So close to him, feeling his warmth and his heartbeat the horrible pictures that had plagued him seemed to dissipate into the night. Upon hearing Thorins forced gasps the hobbit had been unable to keep himself from trying to calm the dwarf. Not sure if his touch was welcome, he had masked his action as a sleep indulged movement. But it had worked nevertheless. Now, enveloped by the strong arms Bilbo couldn’t help but mirror the smile Dwalin gave him, when he saw their arrangement, as he circled the campsite on his watch. 


	2. The pride of a king.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Traveling with a wound is not easy.  
> Travaling with a companion that would not accept any help is even harder.

The sound of alarm spared the two cuddled up folks to address their sleeping arrangements the next morning. Just a heartbeat after the warning was voiced Thorin had swept up Bilbo in his arms and turned with him. Setting him down beneath his back and spinning further he positioned himself swiftly between the hobbit and any danger that might befall him. Joined by the others Bilbo found himself encircled by alerted bodies, just like in Rivendell.  
The fact that only a horde of frightened deer crashed out of the forest, brought out laughs of relive from everybody. After the warges, orges and goblins they have encountered, the wildlife suited as a nice distraction. Fast the woken dwarves prepared for departure. As for nearly all of their possessions had been lost in the goblin cave, there was little to pack. Soon they were moving through the forest and Bilbo was spared an awkward moment after waking up.

Truth to be told, he had been awake for a while. But huddled onto the side of the kings coat and pressed to his warm side, he hadn’t had any desire to move whatsoever. Still the scene with the white orc played before his mind, although he rigorously shoved it down. Being close to Thorin has calmed him. For the first time, since their journey began he felt accepted by the dwarf, even liked a little bit, and although it might has been a sleep indulged illusion, he had desperately wanted to cling onto it.  
Bilbo had been grateful for the king’s apology, although he really felt, that it has not been necessary at all – he was no scout, no fighter, not even a burglar after all – so what he had been able provided for the company has been so little. But they had begun liked him, like he was their lucky charm and he had returned the sentiment more and more. To think that the king would feel truly like them was beyond his expectations. For now the halfling was content with being accepted and fully intended to prove his worth furthermore.

So, although hungry because of the lack of a proper breakfast, or dinner the evening before, he just tailed along and watched fascinated the strange woods that surrounded him. Thorin has gone to the head of the group to talk to Gandalf, afterwards making his way through his companions to access their wounds and their sprit. Although the injuries have been numerous, their spirits were lifted. They had seen their home after so many decades. No matter the obstacles, they were going to get there.  
When Thorin had reached them Balin had taken it upon himself to teach the Hobbit a few tricks with his little “knife”. For – although the experienced warrior had profoundly admired the halflings courage when attacking the orc – he advised for some basic lessons with a blade, so Bilbo would be able to defend himself even better in the future. Feeling not really at ease with a weapon in his hand, the hobbit had grateful taken the opportunity to learn.

 

* * *

 

Never had he been more thankful for a stampede. The early sunrise during the last days of summer, combined with a throbbing pain from his wounds, had woken Thorin far ahead of everybody else. But after feeling the small form pressed to his side, and the warm hand rested on his stomach, he had not wanted to make his awareness known. There has been so much comfort in the hobbits presence right by his side. As if nothing had ever happened between them. As if he had not behaved like an ignorant, offending fool.  
He had watched his companions often when interacting with their burglar. Snuggling up around him, telling tales, just to keep him company during the cold nights. He had rebuffed that notion as stupid sentiment, not accepting that they had simply treated the hobbit as if he was one of them. Especially his nephews who were teased the halfling so often, but had become his fiercest protectors when they came across danger.

The deer’s breaking through the forest had spared him the awkward wake up and an apology that would have been in order. It was not as if he had any right to seek comfort in the closeness of his life-saver, but he had been unable to separate himself from him. After the departure into the depth of Mirkwood, Thorin had concentrated on his companions. Yesterday he had not been in any state to evaluate the state of his comrades. Now he took his time to talk to all of them, assessing their injuries and their equipment.  
When passing Balin and Bilbo he had not known what to say, so he just walked by them with just a quick nod of the head, not realising that the eyes of the hobbit have trailed after him in longing.

 

* * *

 

_“He won’t be able to forgive himself as quickly as you have forgiven him.”_

_“What? … What do you mean? … Forgive what?”_

Balins soft voice, pulling him out of his train of thoughts, made Bilbo turn his head again and concentrating back onto the elderly warrior.  
The soft smile and gentle eyes of the dwarf fell onto the halfling as he just said:

_“If only everyone on middle earth were as soft hearted as you hobbits.  
Our world would surely be a better place._

_But now, concentrate Master Baggins. Tighten your grip, you surely don’t want to lose that nice knife of yours and …”_

The basic training had taken the better part of the morning and with only a brief rest in the middle of the day they were off again. Bilbo found himself close to Thorin who had taken the last position in the trek. What worried the hobbit was, that the king seem to become more and more unsteady. Not acknowledging him at all, the dwarf seemed to be preoccupied with his thoughts, because the only things that he voiced were occasional grunts and sighs. What finally tipped Bilbo off, was the usually so dexterous king, tripping over a root that has wormed it’s way to the surface. Only thanks to the fast reflexes and the proximity had enabled the hobbit to reach out for the dwarf to stable him. An awkward moment, where he had his hands around Thorins waist and the hands of the dwarf digging painfully into his shoulder was quickly dispelled with his apology:

_“Sorry, must have tripped over a boulder.”_

Before releasing the king and swiftly making his way to the front of the group. During the whole time the halfling desperately thought of something to make the dwarves rest. They clearly all were making haste to reach Gandalfs friend. To sleep in a warm bed, gather supplies and be on with their quest. But what Bilbo had felt when he had touched Thorin worried him a lot. The kind had profoundly flinched when the halfling had touched his wounds, and he could swear that he was developing a fever.  
A large field with wound up bushes, close to a little clearing finally gave him an idea. All this time he had never complained about the length of their journey or the endless hours on the road. But now – as he reached Gloin and Gandalf – he begged:

_“Could we not rest here for the night? This place is as good as any and here is even food. Please I am exhausted and we all are hungry!”_

If anything betrayed his true motivation, Bilbo could not tell afterwards. But as the watchful eyes of Gandalf scanned all the dwarves, right until the last one of them, the wizard finally spoke in his interest. Quickly a part of the bushes were hacked down – not without a few stolen berries, that hung ripe and sweet upon the twigs – to make way to the small clearing.  
They were truly fortunate because a small well erupted from a stone nearby, nearly vanishing off into the forest grounds, but strong enough to fill their waterskins with only a little difficulty. After having refilled his own one, the hobbit just passed a tired and pale Thorin, who has settled down at the edge of the clearing, letting the waterskin drop wordlessly into his lap and went off into the bushes.

The refreshment must have worked because after a few moments he heard the deep, but slightly exhausted bass of the dwarvenking, ordering Fili and Kili to hunt something during the last hours of sunlight. He voiced no protest whatsoever; about the decision has been made to stay for the night. That alone showed his tarnished health.  
Bilbo used the improvised handkerchief that Bofur has given him during their first day of the journey, to collect as many berries as he could find. Once more his size worked in his advantage, because he was able to weave through the bushes to find the sweetest and redest fruits. The other dwarves concentrated their harvest onto the edge of the hedge. So he could collect to his hearts contents.

 

* * *

 

Thorin was more than grateful for the wizards decision to rest for the day. Normally he would have protested and used at least another hour of daylight to make haste to reach his long missed home. But he was tired, had a headache and felt more than clumsy. He was well aware of the fact, that only the halflings swift intervention has kept him from an embarrassing plug into the dirt, face first. What puzzled him was the murmured apology, as if the hobbit had not wanted anyone to recognize that he has helped him. Only when the little guy was sure he was steady once more, he had let go and dodged his way through his companions.  
The king instantly mourned the absence of the halfling that has kept himself by his side through the better part of the day. Silent and watchful his present has been an indescribable source of comfort for the king. But only now that he was gone Thorin fully realized that. Had he been better he would surely questioned these feelings, but he was too tired to even think about it.

Searching for a place to rest the king decided that his company would appreciate the early break too. Most of them were tired and weary. Assessing them he didn’t even realize when Bilbo threw the waterskin into his lap but he made good use of it never the less. The cold, fresh water seemed to revive him somehow, so that he picked himself up to order his nephews to hunt. They would have to cover some more ground in these forests and starving them all would serve no purpose.  
After sliding down a broad tree bark he finally allowed himself to relax and concentrate on himself. A kings first concern were his people and this was even more true for Thorin after his father and grandfather have been slaughtered. But as everybody was cared for as good as possible he discreetly lifted his shirt and the improvised bandages. His skin felt hot and clammy but in absence of any other medicine he just pushed the cloth down again and closed his eyes while resting his head against the tree.

_“They are infected and you know it.”_

Bilbos nearly inaudible voice made him open his eyes reluctantly. When the hobbit held up the cloth with the ripe fruits, he forced a small smile onto his face and picked one. Aiming for a steady and assuring voice he answered:

_“I have survived worse. Once we are at Gandalfs friend it will be all right.  
A simple salve from kingsweed and I will be as good as new. Don’t worry.”_

Letting this lie slide, just as Thorin has done with the tripping in the afternoon, Bilbo just sat there and offered more and more of the berries. He himself nipped on one of them for a long time. Although he was hungry, he knew that the dwarf was in more need of sustenance, because, no matter what has happened, Bilbo has come out of the former fights nearly unscratched.  
Only when none of the fruits were left, the hobbit rose from where he has placed himself close to the dwarf’s legs, and joined the others by the fire. Instantly Thorin missed the small patch of warmth the small figure has emanated and watched him, absorbed in his thoughts.

He has helped him. First in the early afternoon and now at the clearing. The hobbit seemed to care for him, although this was a complete foreign concept for the king. It was him who had to care for everyone else around him. Him, who had to be strong, him, who had picked up this quest to give all his people back their home, their kingdom, where they could be safe and happy once more.  
But never the less he was grateful for the support. Exhausted and tired he leaned back into the bark of the tree behind him. Bilbo has tried very hard to hide his weakness from his people and although he had every right to call him on it, as Thorin has done time and time again with him, he was sure that the halfling would have no such intentions. Amazing creatures these hobbits were, if only he could understand them …

 

* * *

 

Bilbo has gone to the well for more water when he suddenly felt a big figure approaching.

_“How is he?”_

Gandalfs question was silent and would not be carried away further than the well. But as the hobbit turned his face, the looks there was all the answer the wizard needed. Bilbos worries mirrored in Gandalfs eyes as he spoke:

_“I don’t know. He barely lets me help him. I am sure that his wounds are infected, but he won’t let me access them. I don’t know what to do Gandalf.”_

_“The pride of a king goes a long way Bilbo. Especially the pride of a dwarven king. All his life he had to be the strength of his people. You have to understand that.  
But never the less you did very well until now. All you can do is stay by his side and continue.”_

Clearly not satisfied with this answer, the hobbit pressed his lips together as if holding back a response. But after a moment’s hesitation he just let out an exhausted breath and just nod.

Best to return to the fire and grab some of meat. He has managed to feed nearly all the berries he had collected to the king before. Maybe his luck would extend to some venison as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did not mean to end right there. But having a tideous little hobbit myself at home, I simly couldn't make more time.  
> There is more to come.


	3. All alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing is as cruel as your own mind.

Bilbo awoke Thorin with a soft shake on the shoulder, extending a waterskin and some cold meat to him. Wordlessly the dwarf grabbed the offerings and forced them down without a lot of enthusiasm. Afterwards he simply stood and ordered his companions to go on. Obviously trying to undermine any sort of interaction he headed for the head of the trail and broke into a steady trot. Unsure of how to react to this brusque behaviour the hobbit stayed away from him for a while. He talked to the other dwarves. Caught up with another beginners-lesson of fighting against an opponent with a hammer by Dwalin, and watched their leader warily. With just a brief stop during midday the king seemed to be interested in making haste. Although his pace slowed steadily as the day stretched into an early afternoon. As for the fact that he brushed of every one of his fellow companions, when someone was trying to talk to him, he soon was left alone at the front, with a gap between him and the group.

Not long after noon finally Bilbo picked up the courage to join the king. Without a word he trailed along the dwarf with only a stolen glance now and then. While determined Thorin clearly looked feverish now. More than once only the hobbits steadying him, kept him from tumbling or falling until the travelled more or less hip to hip with only Thorin hand clutching nearly painfully in Bilbos shoulder for support. Now one mentioned it or even seemed to notice as the other dwarves just trailed along in silence. It was a heavy and worried silence, but non of them joined them to talk the king into resting.  
Curse the dwarvish stubbornness and stupidity. Would it have been another hobbit, possibly even any other dwarf, Bilbo would not have hesitated to call his friend a fool for neglecting his health so obviously. But with the Thorin he felt tungtied and unsure. As Gandalf had mentioned the evening before, maybe just staying close was the best he could do.

Any further decision was taken out of his hands when the king finally broke down to his knees. It took all of the halflings strength to keep the sturdy figure from tumbling to the ground. His call for help had not entirely left his lips, when he was finally surrounded by the dwarves, gently pushed aside and relieved of his burden. Cautiously the others picked their king up and turned him for inspection by the wizard.

_“His wounds need tending to and he needs a place to rest. Properly!”_

_“I will scout if I can find something!”_

Bilbos decision was fast made, for they had no other use for him here. He was neither strong enough nor skilled enough to care for the wounded and sick dwarf. But he was small and could cover some ground in search for a place to rest for Thorin. Fili and Kili just rose from their knees beside their uncle and nod to him. Even though these woods had proven themselves harmless so far, didn’t mean that they could let down their guard or leave their little burglar alone when he was trying to help.

 

* * *

 

When Thorin opened his eyes the next morning he felt his head hurt. The injury in his jest seemed to have seeped beneath his bones and eating him up from the inside. Everything was grey around him. Colorless and foggy the landscape around him was only broken by black, unsteady figures of dead trees and jagged rocks. When he stumbled to the others to make himself known he found them shoulder to shoulder around a merry, crackling fire that was nurtured by their hobbit. The smiling on Bilbos face fell as he saw the approaching king and even the high spirited laughs of his companions died down one by one until they all watched him with cool, nearly hostile faces.  
His announcement that they would pick up their journey was commented with shrugs and rising from the ground. While observing him with distant glares they seemed to expect from him to lead them. Tired and wary he went on his way.

During the entire day he could hear them laugh, joking with their little burglar, making fun of him and getting teased in return. They sounded so completely at ease with each other, in their bickering and laughter, that he felt himself painfully excluded from his companions. When there was an attack, and he tried to defend the hobbit to the best of his abilities. Although he had not noticed before, that the halfling has made his way to his side. He regretted being so unobservant, because he had drawn a great deal of peace from the presence of the hobbit two nights before.  
But after only a glance over by him after the battle was won, the little guy returned to the group. Only then did Thorin notice the enemy behind his back, that has been struck down by the hobbits blade. The blade was still embedded inside the stomach of the slain creature and shone painfully bright in the ever present twilight that surrounded them since morning.

Wanting to make up for his inattentiveness, he tried to hunt for some food, but although he caught a fat rabbit, when he returned to the fire, he realized that the hobbit was already nurturing a wild pig that was rotated on a stick over a blazing fire by Bombur. The offered kill was just acknowledged with a nod of Bilbos head before disregarded again.  
Tired, hurt and sad Thorin just sat between the other dwarves and waited for the meat to finish. His head hadn’t gotten any better during the day and every laugh and every smile the halfling shard with his companions and even more every cool glance that was thrown in his direction, hurt him even more. After dinner, the all just sat together and told well known stories and memories of battles won or maidens charmed. Even though the king desperately wanted to have some part in the merry round, he never was able to raise his voice or make himself heard.

When everybody just settled down close to the fire the hobbit finally just gave him a reluctant glance. With an obvious sigh he nodded to the ground right behind himself, before rolling to his side and starring into the dying embers of their fire. Being grateful for even the small gesture the king made his way around his group, shivering from the cold that had suddenly enveloped him by stepping back from them, to settling down right behind their thief.  
Being closer to him, closer to the fire, he was finally able to relax a little and feel some warmth seep back into his bones. When he, not so accidentally, brushed against the small figure, he was brushed off rigorously when the hobbit moved nearer to the fire and away from him. Thorin dared only to follow him for a few inches before settling down, closely outside of touch range. What he would give to turn back the time to the yesterday’s morning, when their Master Baggins had allowed him to hold him, even had touched him in return …

The next day was very much the same as the day before. And the day after that continued in the same fashion. Their surroundings were grey end dull. The wildlife dangerous and hostile. The food hard to hunt and tasteless. His companions unregarding and dismissive, although none of them openly objected to anything the king said. Worst of all were the condescendence of the hobbit.  
That went so far that Thorin – in his suffering and pain – had finally forced himself to confront the halfling and ask for forgiveness again. But the brusque answer hurt even more, than the exclusion before.

_“Why Thorin? Why should I do that?_

_Have you caught me some slack?_

_I have followed you. Left behind my home, just for you. Left the security of the shire, just to be told of, to be neglected and disregarded? And only after I saved your life have you been able to see this? Not after my helping with the trolls. Not after my trailing along with you, after I have seen the beautiful and kind elves of Rivendell. Not after my following you even after I already planned to leave. And don’t tell me you didn’t notice that. We both know why I tried to!_

_But I stayed with you. Because I have promised to do so! I even slayed that orc just to save you!_

_And now you expect me to just forget all the things I have had to keep up with? Just with a simple apology?  
I deserve better than that. Your people deserve better than that. They deserve a king that is objective and observant!_

_So Thorin, mighty king under the mountain. I expect more from you! When you have tried as hard as I had, maybe I will decide to forgive you. But that will be many days from now. So you better keep trying!”_

After that clarification he had tried. He had truly tried to make up for his faults, but it has been hard, so very hard. To think through the haze that clouded his mind constantly. To work through the pain that weighted down his limps as if his veins ran with lead but with blood. To fight through the weakness that seemed to be such constant companion ever since they had begun their travels through Mirkwood.  
Slowly, oh so very slowly, after endless tiresome days and cold nights he finally seemed to make progress and work himself onto the good side of the halfling. Bilbo shared with him the better part of their meals. Allowed him to brush against him while they slept. Even shared some friendly words with him on a few occasions, and although the king knew that he still had a long way to go, he felt hopeful again. At least until he plugged face first into the giant, white warg that was ridden by the pale orc. The monster had Bilbo in his lap, encircling his neck with the cruel device that made up for his missing arm. Angry and desperate the hobbits words crashed down onto Thorin:

 _“You told me you wanted to make up for it._  
You told me you would protect me!  
YOU LIED!”

**_“NO!!!”_ **

With his dying strength Thorin tried to raise Orcrist from it’s sheath. But he was even too weak for that. Playfully, almost as if he was nothing more than a kitten, the warg closed his teeth around him and threw him through the air. When he landed renewed pain erupted from his chest, cursed through his veins like fire. With his last bits of consciousness he saw Azog drawing the hobbit closer to his chest and riding of into the weaving fog that surrounded them. With his last strength the king pushed himself of the ground to shout to his arch enemy.

**_“Please … not him … take me! You always wanted me! Not the halfling … PLEASE!”_ **

After that he just broke down, sobbing and defeated until a small, kind hand cupped his cheek and brushed the tears away. He tried to open his eyes again, to verify his beliefs, but he was to hurt, to tired, to broken. With his last breath he just grabbed onto the hand as if it was his lifeline and whispered.

_“Bilbo …”_

 

* * *

 

_“Bilbo”_

_“Master Baggins … wake up, please.”_

Gandalfs gentle hand was shaking Bilbo’s shoulder and woke the hobbit from his nap. Worried he looked into the eyes of the wizard and Ori who stood right beside him. The frightful eyes of the youngest dwarf did not bode well for the status of their king. In the afternoon the halfling has been lucky enough to come across an empty cave, more a whole in the earth, where they could ley the sick to rest. Obviously the shelter has been used before, because not only was it relatively clean, it also had a ring of stones in the middle, clearly mend as a fireplace. A fixture they immediately put to good use. For the first few hours the king has been as good as dead to the world. But close to sundown the fever induced nightmares had begun.  
The sick dwarf had started shaking and rolling uneasy in his sleep. His incomprehensible, mumbled words were not to understand and although all of the others, especially his nephews had tried to calm him down, the effects were only short-lived. He could not be calmed, had not eaten, had not really slept. Bilbo had tried for a very long time to accompany the others, but seeing Thorin in this state and being unable to help had slowly drained him of the lasts bits of energy he had been able to maintain.

Due to the fact that no one noticed him at all – the others were far to absorbed in their sick leader – he tiptoes outside of the cave. Outside he met Bombur who was clearly on watch duty. Even the usually so merry dwarf was silent and clearly swept up in his own mind. Although they have been able to provide a meal – a small river nearby ran full of fishes – none of them had really wanted to eat anything, not as long as Thorin had not been able to.  
When Bilbo settled himself down beside the stem that the watcher leaned against, he heard the other one mumble silently:

_“I have never seen him like that. He is always so strong. That is the worst that can happen.”_

_“The worst is not being able to help.”_

Was Bilbos nearly inaudible answer. After that the red-haired dwarf just touched his shoulder and squeezed it empathically before resuming his watch-duty. Worried and tired the halfling leaned against the bark of the toppled down tree and closed his eyes. Only for a minute, before he would raise again to join the others in the cave.  
When he was shaken awake, he did not know how much time has passed. But from the look of the stars, and the fact that Oin was sitting next to him, he guessed at least one or two hours. Anxious the halfling rose and looked at Ori and Gandalf.

_“What? … What’s up?  
Is he? … He is still …? Gandalf …”_

Bilbo couldn’t make himself ask the question that seemed to freeze his entire being from the inside out. Even the slight chance, that Thorin would not get well again was more than he could handle after the recent events. Luckily Gandalf instantly understood the unasked question and shook his head vehemently.

_“No, he is … well not all right but …”_

_“Please Master Baggins come, the king is frantic and the only understandable sound he makes is your name.”_

With huge eyes the hobbit instantly pushed through the people who had woken him and slipped back into the cave. Had some of the dwarves sat next to the king before, changing wet clothes on his forehead, now only Dwalin was holding him down. For the agitated shaking would surely make the patient injure himself even more on the hard cavern walls, where he not restrained.  
With a frightened gaze the halfling looked over the scene only to be crowded instantly by Kili and Fili who spoke to him in rapid motion.

_“He has been delirious all this time.”_

_“Had not even awoken when we had tried to feed him.”_

_“He had nightmares before, all through the day.”_

_“But now they have gotten far worse.”_

_“The only thing we understand is your name. He is angry and panicked but he won’t listen to us. As if we were not here at all.”_

_“Please … help him!”_

The last sentence has been murmured in unison. By now Bilbo was far to used to the brothers way of speaking, to think twice about the fact that every information he asked from them came from them both, in equal parts. But now with their uncle so sick, they were not above pleading when they saw even the slightest chance, of helping him.  
For not even a single moment, Bilbos gaze has left the king since he has returned to the cave. But had he been unsteady in the early evening, he now behaved like a trapped animal. Rolling and fighting against the strong arms that held him down. If Dwalin would let go even for one second the hobbit did not doubt, that even while sick the warrior would throw him right into the wall, hurting him rather seriously. But then he heard for himself.

_“… not the halfling … please!”_

And once again he found himself without any regard for his own wellbeing. Determined he walked past the brothers and stepped up to the improvised bed they had made for the patient. Only a brief look the Dwalin and his answering nod made him sure, that the dwarf would do his best to keep the king stable. So Bilbo kneeled next to him and placed his small hand on the kings burning face. Tenderly he brushed the tears away that seemed to leak from Thorins eyes, and crouched even closer when the shaking form seemed to still instantly at his touch.  
Unsure and worried the dwarf glanced over to the others, unsure if he could let their king go, or if the feverish shakings would return. But then there was one word, just a single word das fell from Thorins lips and Dwalin drew back. Because without any doubt they had finally found the one thing that was able to reach their leader even in his nightmares and sooth his suffering:

_“Bilbo …”_


	4. Awake and Aware

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Upon waking up from his fever Thorin is confronted with slight changes. In his surroundings and within himself.

_“Yes … it’s me … I’m here … everything is going to be all right.”_

Talking was useless, for the patient was too far gone to notice. At least that was what the others had experienced. But with Bilbo words Thorin seemed to be reached. In an exhausted sign that bode to a whimper the king tried to push his hand up to cover the hobbits fingers. Getting onto that notion the halfling made things easier for him by reaching out for the hand and weaving his fingers through it. His other hand was still resting on the king’s face, brushing away sweat and strained tears.  
For more than an hour he sat next to the dwarf and mumbled reassuring words. With every passing minute their patient seemed to calm more and more, at least as long as the hobbit held onto him. Trying to feed him has proven vain, because as soon as Bilbo let go of him, he grew agitated again until the halfling resumed his touches. Tired but never the less grateful that he was able to do at least something, Bilbo struggled to keep himself awake and upright. Finally Kili crouched down next to him and covered the earth next to his uncle with his own, folded coat. Fili right behind his brother softly manoeuvred the hobbit, so that he would be able to find a comfortable position, without the need to separate himself from the king.

 

* * *

 

Thorin was grateful beyond believe that their burglar was now with him. The pain in his head and in his body had seemed to increase every passing day and only the soft words spoken by the hobbit helped him focus on the immediate task to go on. Although he admit to himself, that he wasn’t always able to understand. Never the less they were friendly and careful so he let himself be stirred by them. He knew that his companions were not far behind, but he could not see them. He only knew that they were there and needed him for leading the way.  
And he needed the halfling. They had been right. He was their lucky charm. With him at his side, everything seemed possible and being separated from him for even a brief period, he felt himself going restless again. Maybe the pale orc had returned. Maybe wolfs, eagles or other hostile creatures found him and endangered him without Thorin being able to protect him. But then he was back at his side, silent and compassionate and the king was able to go on.

In the evenings they grew more acquainted with each other. Being constantly at his side, the hobbit did not seem to have a problem with physical contact any more. When he sat on a cut down piece of wood, Thorin found himself a resting place next to his legs. He shared his water, his meal and stroke through the long strands of salt and pepper hair, before resting for the night. Would it have been odd for the dwarf only a short time ago to let a waterskin be held to his lips for drinking, to let himself be fed by hand of someone else, to being calmed and petted, he now couldn’t bring himself to care. His companions were still out of reach – even though it was apparent that they provided everything the hobbit need, and he in return provided Thorin with everything the king needed – none of them was ever to be seen.  
So the king relaxed into the care of the gentle creature without any regard for his pride or his status, when crouched onto the ground next to the hobbit to be fed or curled up next to the halfling to share his warmth when they slept.

 

* * *

 

During midday the dwarves decided that it would be best to move and find Beorn’s home with all the haste they could muster with an unconscious leader. With their help Bilbo has fist been able to get some water into the king and after that he had even accepted a few bites of cold fish from the hobbits fingers. It had been more than a lucky coincidence that that halfling had realized the kings reaction to his fingers close to his mouth. He had been really worried because the fever never broke. He had touched the tussled beard of the dwarf and had brushed accidently against the cracked up lower lip. The parting lips had been no more than a reaction, as had been the swallowing when provided with a small amount of sustenance.  
But being able to get at least a tiny bit of nutrition into Thorin the others had gladly taken Bilbo up on it and after half a fish seemed sure enough that he was strong enough to be moved.

The journey through the forest was exhausting and tiresome. Especially when Thorin seemed more than reluctant to let go of Bilbos hand. But they made it in the end and after only a short encounter between a giant bear and Gandalf, their host had shifted out of his animal skin and invited the company into his house. Being not more than a big and a smaller room that served as a bed-chamber, Thorin has been placed onto the mentioned bed and with swift notions unclad and cleaned from the remaining blood and the sweat he had built up over the last few days. As long as the patient has been able to sense the presence of the hobbit he had been relatively calm. But once he had been lain down onto the bed with Bilbo gone to wash and feed himself, he soon got tense again.  
But only after a few, short minutes the halfling returned and relieved Balin and Dwalin from calming him down. His hand on Thorins forehead instantly stilled the patient but Balin just advised:

_“You have been at his side for the better part of the last two days. You need some undisturbed rest and some food Master Baggins. Go and care for yourself, we will care for our king.”_

_“I can sleep on the floor beside him and I’m not hungry at the moment.”_

A more obvious lie had never been uttered, especially with his stomach grumbling at the mere mentioning of food. But never the less Bilbo raised his chin in defiance and looked at the two Dwarves. With a deep, amused rumble in his chest Dwalin pushed himself from the bed and carefully laid his big hand onto the hobbits shoulder. His words were kind as he informed him:

_“I will get you something to eat Master Baggins. You are of no use to any of us if you starve yourself.”_

For a brief moment Bilbo felt the desire to decline, to keep up the pretence. But in the end Balins cautious voice kept him from it.

_“It is clear that you are a much better caretaker for Thorin than any of us. We would surely be poor off, if something might happen to you. So let us care for you as he lets you care for him.”_

Truth to be told there was a lot of wisdom in Balins words. Although Bilbo could not understand why the patient had allowed only him to feed him, had reacted to his touch almost instinctually. The halfling was glad for this nevertheless, because that was the only thing he was truly good at: to care. Might that be other hobbits, his blossoming garden or a sick dwarf.  
With a slow nod of his head he thanked Dwalin for the stew that he brought and with his help even was able to feed some of it to the injured king. In the afternoon they finally had been able to tend to Thorins wounds. Carefully cleaned and salved they lay under wide bands of fresh cloth to be protected from any further infection. Grateful that everything had been done for Thorin the hobbit felt himself slipping against the wall and closing his eyes.

 

* * *

 

It was warm, so warm and so comfortable that Thorin resisted to open his eyes for a moment.

_“I know you are awake Thorin Oakenshield. You truly gave us some fright.”_

Reluctantly the dwarvenking opened his eyes, only to look into the friendly face of the wizard, who set on the foot of the giant bed. For a moment he tried to sit up, but noted fast, that he was to week to do so, more like a whelp than a full grown warrior. Masking his actions he just tugged on the blanked that covered him and tried to put his hand behind his head to get a better look at the wizard. Only then did he notice the hobbit that seemed to be curled up around his shoulders and his head. Irritated with the source of warmth and cosiness he drew his brows together and looked at Gandalf.

_“Bilbo has never left your side for the past week. Not during the days in the cave where we put you to rest. Not during the journey here, nor in this room. He was the only one you allowed comfortably at your side.”_

_“Why would he …”_

_“Because he can …”_

A simple answer for a puzzling question. Bewildered he turned his head ever so slightly to look at the face that was so close to his shoulder, only to realize that the hobbit was really wrapped around him, for the lack of a better word. His legs lay close to his arm and not only did the king notice now that his hand clung onto it, but that the halflings hand rested on his chest as well. A fact he had not even been aware of before. He had simply drawn comfort from the proximity. Embarrassed and slightly uneasy he tried to untangle himself from the halfling only to have him wide awake within a mere moment.  
With eyes shining with sudden relief and happiness, their burglar took in his wide figure. After a short moment, where they both seemed to be lost for words, he dislodged himself from the bed and notified enthusiastic that he would go and fetch some breakfast for the king.

 

* * *

 

With an immense relief Bilbo slipped out of the door and with a goofy grin tiptoes through the main room in search for remnants of their dinner. Being attuned to his needs, soon Kili and Fili had woken and with their question for their uncle’s wellbeing, roused the others. Soon the hobbit found himself answering the same question over and over again, before the first of the group decided to check on their king for themselves. Thorin would be in no state to deal with them so the hobbit quickly scraped some soup from last night into a small bowl and grabbed two rolls before pushing and pulling his way back to the kings bedside.

_“How are you?”_

_“How do you feel?”_

_“How is your chest?”_

_“How are your wounds?”_

_“Do you need anything?”_

Putting down the dish, Bilbo used the only way to make himself heard over the equally worried and relieved dwarves: He put two fingers into his mouth and whistled so loudly, that at home he would have scared away crows from corn-fields two hills further. Instantly he was regarded with astonished glances.

_“What he needs is some room to breathe and not being tortured by you brawly lot!  
Out! All of you! Go, go, go! I will tell you when he feels good enough to deal with you obnoxious dwarves!”_

With relieved smiles on their faces one by one the companions touched their king briefly before disappearing again.

_“You shouldn’t have done that!”_

_“Yes I should! You have been unconscious for the last eight days. You need some rest and time to regain your strength.  
First of all, you need to eat something.”_

Clearly angered by the implication of him being weak Thorin snapped at him:

_“I am strong enough to deal with my companions, as well as feeding myself, thank you very much Master Bilbo!”_

Very aware of Thorins use of his first name – a novelty between them – as well as his reluctance to show any sign of weakness, Bilbo just sat down the bowl on the floor next to the bed. Afterwards he rose from his position, close to the king’s chest, where he has fed him the last meals. The dwarf was stupid and stubborn and both knew it. But the hobbit would not call him on that, they could be overheard, so he just sat back on the giant bed and watched the king.

 

* * *

 

Relieved beyond compare to see all of his friends worrying for him and smiling at him, after his disturbing nightmares, Thorin just let himself be swept away by their voices. Only when Bilbo threw them all out after mere minutes, the dwarf realized, how tiresome their noises had been for him. So he was half grateful and half irritated at the forceful intervention of the hobbit. Letting himself be fed by him was completely out of question. He would struggle upright and grab for the bowl when the halfling left. But clearly that was the last thing on his little companions mind. He just made himself at home at the foot of the bed and nibbling on one of the rolls he had brought with him, completely ignoring the king and his efforts.  
Although Thorin detested himself for it, he soon acknowledged, that he was by fare not strong enough to care for himself. Never has he been in a more humiliating position. Even when his home has been taken from him, he had been able to fight for his people, to provide new shelter and a life even after the disaster. But now he simply wasn’t strong enough to pick up that cursed bowl of soup from the floor and feed himself. So he just slumped down defeated and closed his eyes to spare himself a smirk from the hobbit.

It took but two breaths before he was forced to return his attention back to the hobbit, because he had put himself back right next to his chest. Unable to retreat any further Thorin forced himself to accept the inevitable, and looked into the halflings face. Only then did he realize that Bilbos eyes were darkened with worry and concern for him. He also noticed that the hobbit looked far from healthy himself. Deep circles ran under his eyes, their colouring boring to bruises. He looked somehow thin and exhausted, but never the less a patient smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he started to feed him soup with occasional patches of bread.  
Never had Thorin tasted a more delicious meal, although his stomach cramped after the first two bites. But even then did Bilbo seem to be caught prepared, because the halfling instantly positioned himself slightly behind the king to tug him into a half sitting position and ordered him to breath. It was somehow terribly patronizing for the king to be held up by the halfling but not being strong enough to do it on his own - and the fact that his stomach-cramps did ease in that position, he had now other choice but to allow it.

Although his mind told him that he must be starving, his body felt satisfied after the roll and the bowl of soup. Exhausted he let himself slip down under the covers again, observing the halfling as he collected the remnants of the meal and tugging at his blankets, making sure that he was comfortable and warm, before turning to the door. Suddenly feeling the desperate need to say something, to fill the silence that stretched out between them, he coughed slightly, only to hear the hobbits kind voice:

_“I’m just returning the dishes. I will be back soon.”_

That was not what he had intended to ask, but never the less he felt a sudden relieve washing through him. Bilbo has been such a soothing presence in his dreams, and he was even more so when he was awake. Not judging, not expecting anything, simply being there and helping, just because he could. So he just nod and settled back onto the bed. Within moments he was fast asleep again.

 

* * *

 

As soon as Bilbo left the room he felt himself in the centre of attention from each and every dwarf in the room. Clearly the had all but waited for him to reappear. Unsure of what this sudden interest meant he shifted nervously from one foot to the other, turning the empty bowl in his hands. Hesitant he looked from one dwarf to the other. Surely they were not overly angry with him for throwing them out of their king’s chambers. Thorin had awoken only recently, he needed rest to get healthy as fast as possible.  
So he was completely taken by surprise when Kili and Fili stepped up to him and enveloped him in a bone crushing hug. Their voices were silent but nearly reverent when they said:

_“Thank you.”_

After them, all the companions stepped up to him, hugged him briefly or just put their hands on his shoulder. Their gratitude was written all over their faces.  
It also showed in the fact that they manoeuvred him into a hot tub, providing him with every bit of food that could be found in the house of the great bear, before leaving him, to return to their kings sickroom. Clean, fed and truly exhausted Bilbo knew that this would be the first time in many days that he had a chance for a truly relaxed sleep. So with a brief glance over the peaceful and calm king, he climbed up onto the bed, roll into himself right at his side and covering himself with his furry blanked.


	5. Summer sun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally Thorin is back at his feet and the journey can continue. But not without a brief intercouse between him and his burglar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took me a rather long time to find a way for Bilbo and Thorin to be together. I didn't want to pressure the characters into something that didn't feel right for them. But now I think I have found a way to make everybody happy. Literally ;).

It took but another day until Thorin was up and able to help himself at dinner. Detesting the implied weakness he had pulled upright and reached for the plate filled with meat and vegetables that was brought to him. He had accepted the hobbits help with a few bowls of a hot herbal mixture that seemed to ease his pain and enforce his healing. But in the evening there was no chance that he would let himself be fed like a whelp again. Not minding the rebuff, Bilbo positioned himself right next to his patient as usual, picking bits and pieces from the overflowing plate, sharing his bread with him. Still Thorin was lost for words in the hobbits presence.  
What should you say to someone, you have rejected for so long, only to have him saving your life and treating you with the uttermost care after that. Although his guilty conscience has eased somehow, he still wasn’t sure how to compensate the halflings kindness. Being the caretaker for his people ever since they had been forced out of their own home, he was not used to be taken care of. In the end he just settled for silent gratitude, before sinking back onto the bed.

When the hobbit returned, after getting rid of the dishes, he just settled himself at the top of the bed, where he had spent every night, ever since they had arrived at Beorn’s house. Pride and need somehow fought in Thorins chest. He was a king, he should not let himself be cuddled like a toddler. But he could not keep himself from oh so slightly leaning into the warm body, inhaling his clean and soothing scent. Unsure what to say, he let his thoughts drift. Although the silence between them was not uncomfortable at all, he suddenly felt the overwhelming desire to hear Bilbo talking to him. The halflings voice would keep his thoughts at bay, would keep him from planning and thinking of strategies for reclaiming their home. It would bring peace to his mind, so he settled for the first question that came into his mind. His voice was rough from not being used for more than a week as he quietly begged:

_“Tell me something about your home Master Baggins.”_

 

* * *

 

He had talked for the better part of the evening. But this time not to calm down an agitated patient, but to tell stories of Bags End, The Shire, his family and friends. Every happy memory he recalled brought up another and Bilbo felt himself relax more and more, the longer he talked. Even when Thorin had felt asleep, one hand circling his leg, head resting on his tight, he had finished the last story, just for himself. Just to remember, that there was a place for him that he could return to. Just to remind himself that having a home was worth fighting for it. He had been well aware of the fight within his mighty king, when he had been forced to accept his assistance.  
Clearly Thorin was beyond remembering much of Erebor, where his family had – without any doubt – provided him with a caretaking, happy home. Thorin was too strong, too settled, too sure of the rightness of his quest to not have such memories, even if they had been buried under battles and dragonfire.

The next two days developed in the same fashion: Bilbo brought up everything Thorin could need and the dwarf accepted it with silent gratitude. By the beginning of the fourth day the king declared himself healed enough to leave the bed and each and every member of the company was glad to be able to supply his needs, if only a little. Food, clean clothes, drinks, stories of the happenings of the last two weeks were provided.  
To not intrude in the happy reunion Bilbo left the great hall. He had found a pipe and a little weed and – regarding the role he had to play in the quest – nicked them for a bit. The grounds of Beorn’s home were wide and fertile. Vegetables, crops, herbs, even flowers outgrew themselves at every available place. Behind the manor the hobbit had spotted a calm river and used the opportunity for a quick dip into the water. Clad only in his trousers and a thin shirt he settled himself on a giant boulder that set in the middle of the garden, untangling his messy hair with a wooden comb he had found, feeling truly clean and settled for the first time since Rivendell.

Like a lizard on a warm stone he stretched out on the smooth surface of the boulder, closing his eyes, enjoying the warm sunshine and the feeling of the long grass under his toes. Lighting the borrowed pipe proved somehow difficult, until Gandalf passed him by and helped him out. For some time the wizard settled down next to the hobbit. Unspoken calm stretched out between them as they both enjoyed the tranquil summer day. On an unnoticed incident the man suddenly pushed himself up, leaving Bilbo alone again. But the hobbit was far to content to worry about the quirks of a wizard. After all this time finally everybody he cared for was well of, so he saw no reason whatsoever to leave his resting place.  
He smiled to himself when he felt someone approaching. He had found himself a small patch of paradise, a place that reminded him of his home. Wishing for his companions to share this feeling he just scooted a little to the right, providing more space for the dwarf who wished to join him.

What finally made him open his reluctant eyes, was the fact that not only had the dwarf in question positioned himself at the foot of the boulder, only slightly connecting with Bilbos own feet, but that a cold clamminess seeped through his trousers. Thorins hair was a tousled mess, flowing in wet strands over his shoulders. Patiently the hobbit waited for the king to say something, to express what he wanted, but when no explanation came he just pushed himself upright and pulled up his feet. Only a miniscule shift of the body beneath him, betrayed the fact that the retreating legs were missed instantly, but after that his guest sat absolutely still again, wordlessly resting his back on the stone, not acknowledging Bilbo in the slightest.

When Bilbo than began to pick up his strands to separate and comb them, tension seemed to bleed out of Thorin with every stroke. Fishing the silver clasp out of his trousers he rotated it between his strong fingers. As always the hobbit seemed to catch up on the unspoken request, starting to untangle the hair that lay usually braided on his shoulder, trying to plaid it as expected. Smiling he observed attentive, when Thorin brushed over his fingers, to show him how it was done. He was sure, that the dwarf could have braided his hair in a fraction of the time he would need. But it seemed somehow important for the king, to let him do it. He always drew his hands back, before the plaid was finished so that Bilbo could do it all on his own. When the clasp was finally firm in place, the dwarf tensed up again.  
The hobbit knew that he would stand up and leave him in mere moments, and realized, that he had no desire to allow that. With Thorin it was always the duty, his kingdom, his people, their quest. It was never about himself, only in the few stolen moments they had just shared. So Bilbo made the decision to not let that moment end so fast or so easy.

 

* * *

 

When the hobbits fingers found his neck Thorin felt more than uncertain of how to react. Finding their thief had proven somewhat difficult, but without his presence the king had felt slightly uneasy. Not that he would have allowed himself to admit that feeling. No, he had eaten, laughed with his friends, made plans for their departure and only when they had finished, he had let himself leave and search for … well a bath obviously. He had been ill for a long time, so he surely only went looking for a bath and nothing more. The river behind the house ran calm and after he had scrubbed himself thoroughly and washed his hair, had he gone back. Finding the hobbit had been nothing more than a coincidence. Placing himself next to him on the soft grass was … just a good way of drying his hair in the warm sun.  
When the hobbit than had started to comb his hair it was clear that this was but a necessity. Dwarves hair was long and thick and not easy to untangle once messed up. So it was much smarter to let it be combed when it was still wet, than to fight the dry and tangled stands. Bringing out the clasp has been an unconscious choice; surely Bilbo would not know how to use it. But after the hobbit had started to try, Thorin realized that he wanted the halfling to be able to do it. So he just helped along the way, never braiding it all by himself. When the silver ending was put into place he knew that his moment of peace had come to an end. There was no reason to stay here any longer, he was about to push himself up when he felt warm fingers on his shoulders, near his neckline holding him firmly in place.

Only when he gave up the desire to rise and settled back, the caresses began. **“No … I can’t allow that. That is not appropriate!”** the thought ran rampage in his head. But at the same time his body relaxed noticeably and he felt himself unable to act on his beliefs. On the contrary, his treacherous body leaned in to the touch, willing it silently to continue. And continuing it did. The gentle fingers touched his neckline, ghosted over his shoulders, trailing down over his arms like a summer breeze. Thorin became more than aware of his own body under that tactile examination.  
 **“I need to go, I can’t let him do this to me … Please don’t stop!”** Instinctively Thorin had drawn up his legs from the ground up to his chest, and shifting into a more upright position. His arms were rested on his knees to keep them within the reach of the tender fingers. And caressing they did: delicate fingertips drew fantastic patterns over his flesh. Warm palms brushed over his arms, not touching but close to, raising the hair on his skin. Legs had untangled themselves from under the small figure behind him, came down next to his body on either side, close enough to feel their heat but not close enough to touch.

 **“How can he do this? Who gave him the right? … I don’t need this … continue … by the Arkenstone, please continue.”** And Bilbo continued. Shifting himself even closer, Thorin could feel the warmth of his body even through the thin material of the halflings clothes that brushed over his upper back. But he didn’t want clothes, he wanted skin. Being without a top himself he felt the aching need to be touched, to be caressed and petted, only for once in his life. He shouldn’t allow this, he shouldn’t need this. But rising right now and separating himself from his burglar was unthinkable.

_“I need …”_

His voice was broken and breathless. A heavy contrast to the firm words of the hobbit:

_“No Thorin, you don’t need to do anything.”_

Kind hands manoeuvred him upright. His traitorous body seemed to follow Bilbo’s will more easily than his own, so the dwarf found himself on his knees in front of the stone, facing the hobbit. Soft hands enveloped his face, gentle fingers brushed over his cheeks. Faced with the love and devotion that showed on Bilbos face, he could take only unsteady breaths while waiting for him to continue.

_“Everyone you care for, everyone you love is well off at this very moment. So you don’t have to do anything, just relax and stop thinking for once.”_

Slowly, oh so slowly Bilbo’s face descended to his, sweet, aromatic breath washed over him as the hobbit brushed his lips over his skin only to whisper in his ear.

_“Everything is going to be alright. Just relax.”_

After that he drew back slightly only to rest their foreheads together. His hands fell from Thorins face to his neck, drawing circles over the skin, caressing it in the most delicate manner. Parting after ghosting over his adams apple, before sliding over his broad shoulders. Soft fingertips traced scars and veins down his arms, only to stop at the hands that were still balled up in tight fists.  
The dwarven king was absolutely overwhelmed by the situation, and although his mind still fought a losing battle, his body has given in right from the beginning. But the confusion showed in his clutched hands, now taken into the hands of the hobbit one by one. Drawing back and looking into the kings hazed eyes the hobbit lifted first the right and then the left hand to his mouth, brushing with his lips over them, opening them like flowers. After placing them on his warm tights he continues his caresses on the strong man’s torso.

 **“He’s shouldn’t be able to do this. I can’t feel this way. It is not right. I’m a king! … NO! Don’t stop … you can’t stop touching me!”** Thorin felt weak for a moment when Bilbo drew back, taking his time to inspect the warrior’s body before him. His desperation must have shown in his eyes, because after a mere heartbeat the hobbits hands returned to him. Stroke his broad muscular chest, trailed over the wounds ever so slightly, to not hurt him, glided deeper over his flat stomach and dipping playfully into his navel. His thumbs stroking the patch of hair that went from his navel down under the waistband of his trousers made the dwarf gasp and throw his head back in the same fashion as pushing his hips onward towards the touch.  
His mind has fled him. All thoughts abandoned under the gentle ministrations of the halfling. Clearly getting the message Bilbo let his fingers drift lower and lower, tailing the top of the breeches with his fingertips, dipping lower when reaching the hipbones. Carefully massaging the skin that lay tight over the bones below, Thorins fingers flexed onto the hobbits tights. A tiny part of his brain wanted to comment on the notion, bring to his attention that he would hurt the halfling if he went on. But nothing of that mattered any more. The only thing that counted was the petting, rubbing, caressing that seemed to cover his entire body. Every hair stood upright and then a sensation became so unbearable that he was forced to break his silence.

It was more an animalistic loud of need that left his mouth when he suddenly felt Bilbo’s lips on his chest. It was too much and yet not nearly enough. **“Yes … please … don’t stop … don’t stop … more … stronger … more!”** Thorin felt himself squirm under the feather light caresses, his mind unable to catch up, flying high on the incredible sensation. Drawing back, pressing forward his hands had found their way around the halfling, only to pull him closer, much more closely. With glassy eyes he watched the brown hair that seemed to be laced with strands of gold in the sunlight, when Bilbo changed his attention from one side of his chest to the other. The sensation increased even more, when the clever fingers of their thief rubbed over the sensitized skin he had just left, while he administered the same treatment to the flesh right over Thorins heart.  
Only when the king was sure he couldn’t take it anymore did the hobbit raise his head. His lips were red from the pressure and glittering in the sunlight. The dwarves head was spinning, unable to decide what to do as he felt Bilbo’s fingertip ghosting over his beard and bottom lip. Grateful to be able to latch onto something he immediately closed his lips around it, drawing it deeper into his mouth. But as he nibbled and sucked on the finger, a similar sensation seemed to bloom in his own groin. Unable to question the feeling, not wanting it to end he closed his mouth around the second finger that had started to tease his beard.

He dragged himself even closer to the hobbit, nearly pulling him down from his boulder and down onto his lap, but a tiny headshake from Bilbo stopped his movements. **“I need you … please don’t go away … I need you … I need you, NOW!”** the same thoughts ran through his mind over and over again. He wouldn’t let go, couldn’t not even if his life depended on it. His whole universe had shrunken down onto this small, courageous, kind, amazing creature before him and it knew so exactly what he needed, because within a mere moment, the fingers were drawn back and replaced by a pair of firm lips that pressed against his. Sagging into the kiss Thorin was unable to do anything but giving in into the soft caress of Bilbos tongue that stroke his bottom lip, before it dipped into his mouth rather forcefully. Dizzy from by the kiss, but never the less unable to break it, the dwarf just leaned in closer and closer, needing more contact with every second of their connection.  
All the while the clever fingers of his burglar found their way under the waistband of his trousers, finally finding the part of him Thorin has ached to be touched for so long. **“Yes … please … more … stronger.”** his thoughts ran incoherent although he willed them into Bilbo with every stroke of his tongue against the hobbits. Thankfully even now, the halfling seemed to understand.

While his lips rendered the mighty warrior breathless his hands closed around his shaft. Not moving, not now, just lying there, strong and steady on the silk flesh that felt like velvet steel. But that was by far not enough for the king. Whimpering into the kiss he forcefully pushed his hips further on, only to feel the hobbits hands retreat. Instantly he pulled back, drawing back his mouth slightly to signal that he was willing to be led, if only Bilbo didn’t stop, not now, not when he needed this so much!  
And again, his companion comprehended. After torturous moment he just smiled, and engulfed Thorin once more, with his lips as well as with his hands. After this brief battle of wills the hobbit seemed to pull out all stops. His mouth danced over the lips of the king, over his chin, his cheeks, his eyes, his temples, down to his neck. Willingly the dwarf allowed all access, silently begging for more. Strong hands, more than capable of carrying a sword, enclosed his cock rubbing, stroking and teasing with an overwhelming amount of pressure, much, so much, but still not enough.

Thorin drew his head back, looking into the hobbits eyes pleading before bearing his neck, rendering himself helpless. But his halfling had seemed to have no interest in a passive participant in this game. The order to look into his eyes was quiet but never the less laced with steel and the king felt himself unable to disobey. The ministrations on his shaft grew faster, stronger and he struggled to maintain eye contact when he felt the pressure rise in his body. Shuddering and shivering he kneeled there, hands gripping onto the hobbits shirt as if it was the only thing that would keep him grounded. He knew he would come and that the others would hear him, it was inevitable. But he couldn’t bring himself to care. Obviously his burglar did, because a mere second before he exploded, his mouth was sealed close by Bilbo’s lips and every sound he made was swallowed by the hobbit.

Shaking and weak he untangled his hands from the fabric behind Bilbo’s back, only to deteriorate against the halfling. Strong and gentle arms closed around his body, petted him and steadied him as he came down to earth. Tender lips found his hair and brushed over it so tenderly, as he sank back onto the ground. He felt tired, drained and entirely satisfied as he drew his heavy arms around one of Bilbo’s legs, just to rest his head in his lap. For a brief moment he asked himself what he had done, to be blessed with such a companion before drifting off to sleep.

 

* * *

 

When the sun finally set, Bilbo found himself to be forced to wake his companion. Gentle strokes over his hair and a slight shake of his shoulders brought the dwarf back to consciousness. For a moment he just stared up into the eyes of the hobbit with what seemed to be amazement and awe before pushing himself up. Offering his hand Bilbo let himself be helped down from the stone and turned to the house, where the others would – without any doubt – with for them with dinner. He had made only a few steps when he felt himself surrounded by two strong arms. For a mere moment the king buried his head in the hobbits soft, brown hair only to quietly whisper:

_“Thank you.”_

Bilbo smiled. His dwarf was truly an amazing person, saying so much with so few words. So he just raised his hand to softly caress the bearded cheek, laughing ever so slightly as he felt something being pushed into the pockets of his trousers. A questioning look down revealed that it was the “handkerchief” he had used in the afternoon to clean the two of them.

_“We shouldn’t leave that lying around.”_

_“Surely not. We might need it again.”_

The casual remark made his dwarf exhale sharply, while pushing himself even closer to the hobbit. Bilbo was glad to notice that Thorin would not be opposed to that idea, not at all. But after another moment the dwarf let go of him so that they could join the others.

 

* * *

 

If their companions realized anything about the changed behaviour between Thorin and Bilbo they didn’t mention it. Although it was clear to the king that the general mood seemed to be lifted considerably. When they resumed their journey the next morning they found themselves with horses, equipped to carry at least two dwarves or one dwarf and equipment. By coincidence or by careful planning on his friends side, Bilbo and Thorin were the last ones to choose a horse. With only one left the decision was easy to make and the hobbit climbed agile up the place himself in front of the king. He would definitely not sit behind with all the dark hair in his face, and his view of the beautiful landscape blocked by a giant dwarf. Definitely not!

Smiling at this teasing comment they all set off and Bilbo meant:

_“It’s ashamed to leave behind such a nice house with all the possibilities’ for a second breakfast.”_

Only the hobbits eyes had not drifted back to the house, but to the garden behind it, as Thorin very well noticed. The snickering of his nephews brought his attention back at the group only to find two apples flying at Bilbo and him simultaneously, accompanied by the comment:

_“Second breakfast Master Baggins.”_

Thorins and Bilbos hands shot up equally fast, to catch one apple each. With a wink they just touched their capture as if to toast only to sink their teeth into the juicy fruits. Enveloped by the laughs of his friends, the closeness of his burglar and the sweet scents of the summer Thorin closed his arm around the most precious accession to their company, to finally realize that he had really, truly been able to forgive himself for every wrong he had done, because from now on, everything would be all right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter of this story, for me the circle has closed and Thorin and Bilbo are where they are ment to be, side by side off to their adventure. 
> 
> I won't obviate the possibility to continue their story at some point in the future. But what was in my head is now here for all of you to enjoy. I hope that reading my story was as much fun for you, as it was for me writing it. 
> 
> If you find some prompts that you feel fit into Bilbo and Thorins adventure, feel free to hit me with them. 
> 
> As always: each and every comment is appreciated.


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